


Spy Games

by SteelLily



Category: Agent Carter (TV)
Genre: Awkward Conversations, F/F, F/M, Gathering Intel, Gen, Series Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-19
Updated: 2015-02-24
Packaged: 2018-03-13 16:58:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3389339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SteelLily/pseuds/SteelLily
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dottie is on an information gathering mission.</p><p>Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters and I make no claim to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Out to Lunch

**Author's Note:**

> This occurs between episodes 4 and 5.  
> Cartinelli is implied.

Dottie carefully closed her door behind her, listening for the soft clack of the lock as she turned her key. She smoothed her hands down the front of her dress and walked down the hallway. Stopping in front of Peggy’s door, she raised her fist to knock. 

“Heya Dot! Peg ain’t home. She won’t get back ‘til ‘round curfew,” Angie sang as she popped out of her room.

“Oh darn,” Dottie pouted, “I was hoping she could get lunch with me, “You wouldn’t happen to be available would you Angie? It’d be awful fun to go someplace with a real New Yorker.”

Dottie bit back a level of disdain behind her syrupy sweet smile. Angie smiled even wider, “Sounds like fun! Oh we can go to this little hot dog stand down the street. Mostly kids go to it but you ain’t a New Yorker unless you had a real hot dog.”

“O-okay,” a look of puzzlement crossed Dottie’s face.

“You’ll love it, trust me.”

Angie bounced down the stairs next to Dottie, her curls jumping as she went. Dottie watched quietly, a step behind. _Peggy Carter likes this one?_ She thought to herself with a raised eyebrow.

Angie pushed the doors to the Griffith wide open. She tilted her head up and took a deep breath. “Smell that, Dot? That’s the smell of New York and there ain’t nothin’ like it.”

Dottie sniffed tentatively, “Smells like garbage.”

Angie giggled and waved her hand, “Oh you Midwest girls are all the same. You don’t appreciate the smell of the big city.”

Dottie watched Angie walk and attempted to mirror the movements. Her attempt yielded a close resemblance but not a true imitation. Dottie could be demure, deadly and many things in between but Angie’s unassuming confidence was a new concept. Giving up on the attempt, Dottie came to walk beside Angie. “So tell me about yourself, Angie,” she said, linking arms and smiling.

Angie wiped a confused look off her face when she looked up at Dottie. “Not much to tell that ya don’t already know. I work at the L&L. A lot of the customers ain’t so great and don’t tip so well. I’m gonna be an actress one day. I know most girls say that but I really mean to make it happen.” 

Angie stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and raised her fist into the air, staring off into the distance, “As God as my witness, I will make it to the stage.”  
She giggled and caught back up to Dottie who had walked a few paces ahead before stopping.

“Oh I know that one! Gone with the Wind, right? Oh Clark Gable’s quite the looker isn’t he?” Dottie clapped. 

“He’s got a great mustache. I always wondered what I’d look like if I had jet black hair like Vivien Leigh. She’s so beautiful. Anyway, that’s about all there is to know about me.”

“Oh come on, Angie, don’t tell me you don’t have a fella,” Dottie prodded, noting the little squirm in Angie’s shoulders at the question.

“Pfft. When do I got time for a fella. I’m up to my elbows in ‘em at work. That’s plenty enough for me right now. Maybe someday,” Angie deflected, “What about you, Iowa? None of us really know that much about ya.”

Dottie looked up at the buildings, away from Angie’s questioning gaze, “You know I’m a dancer. I’m from Iowa. I don’t really have any friends yet,” Dottie looked down and sniffled.

“Gee Dot. Us girls at the Griffith are your friends.”

“Not really. I don’t really talk to any of you. This is the first time you and I have really talked. Peggy lives right next door and I never talk to her.”

“Well don’t let not talkin’ to Peg get ya down. She keeps pretty busy at the phone company and all. Only reason I talk to her is ‘cause she comes to the Automat sorta regular. You’ll make friends. Here, look. Let a nice hot dog cheer ya up!”

Angie hopped into the line behind two small boys and fished a quarter out of her purse. Dottie stood next to her. “What’ll ya have, doll?” the old man asked.

The cart, as it was, had a bright yellow umbrella over top of it. The chalkboard sign on the sidewalk advertised, “Best dogs in NYC 10 cents.”

“We’ll have two dogs with everything,” Angie chirped.

“Oh, I don’t like mustard,” Dottie said, digging into her purse for a dime.

“Sorry, make that one no mustard.”

The man handed Angie the sans mustard hot dog which she then handed to Dottie, took the other one for herself and gave the man a quarter, telling him to keep the change. “Here,” Dottie said, handing Angie a dime.

“Nah, don’t sweat it. Consider this your ‘Welcome to New York’ dog,” Angie pushed the coin away with her elbow, “Now, what were we talking about?”

The skin between Dottie’s eyebrows involuntarily wrinkled. _No one is this chipper all the time. I wonder what she’s hiding,_ Dottie thought.

“You were telling me about Peggy.”

“Was I?” Angie asked, “I guess I was. Anyway, she’s a real peach. If she put her mind to it, she could be on Broadway no problem. She’s got the look. I’m too skinny. She’s…” Angie cleared her throat, “Ah, anyway, she ain’t interested in acting,” she felt her face redden and she turned away, stuffing hot dog in her mouth.  
“Well, maybe you should be a dancer, Angie. I bet you’d be good at it,” Dottie reassured.

Angie laughed and shook her head, “My grace starts and ends with bein’ able to put one foot in front of the other and not fall down.”

Dottie nodded distantly. This tiny enigma somehow managed to ingratiate herself with Agent Carter and Dottie could not in the least, figure out the why of it. Angie wadded up her empty napkin and tossed it in a trash can on the sidewalk. “So…what’d ya think, Iowa?” she beamed, “Best hot dog ya ever had, ain’t it?” 

“Oh it was delicious, Angie. Thank you for taking me,” Dottie put on her ‘aw shucks’ face and smiled down at Angie.

They returned to the Griffith and pulled open the door, side by side. Several women were milling about in the lobby. “Well, see ya, Iowa. I gotta see if I got mail from my ma and pop. We should get lunch again sometime,” Angie waved and walked off toward the front desk.

Miss Fry was scolding a young woman about the smell emanating from her room when Angie strolled up. Dottie watched her for a moment before heading toward the stairs. 

“Heya, English!” Angie exclaimed. 

“Hullo, Angie,” Peggy smiled.

Dottie turned to look in the direction of the voices. Angie was leaning half over the front desk while Miss Fry’s back was turned. Peggy sidled up next to her. Angie bumped Peggy with her hip, “We were talkin’ ‘bout ya a minute ago. Were your ears burnin’?”

Peggy leaned in slightly, their shoulders touching, “All good, I hope.”

“Are you checking your mail also, Miss Carter?” Miss Fry asked as she handed a pile to Angie.

Peggy nodded. Angie replied, “Of course it was. Like anybody could say anything bad about you. Me ‘n Dot got a hot dog. You know, between you and me, I think she’s a little homesick.”

“Oh the poor dear. It is difficult being all alone in a new city. I remember that feeling,” Peggy reminisced.

Dottie watched for a moment longer at the way they leaned into each other without seeming to notice, the way their heads dipped together as they spoke and the smiles that broke across their faces when the other laughed. _It’s almost as if they’re in love._ Dottie shook her head, a different kind of smile, painted across her lips. _How very interesting,_ she thought as she climbed the stairs.


	2. Tour of the Town

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not everyone is quite who they seem.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Co-occurring with episode 5.

Dottie’s eyes popped open. Her pupils shrank from the light streaming in the window. She reached over to her nightstand, opened the top drawer and took the key to unlock her wrist from the bedpost. She flipped her legs over the edge of the bed and stretched. Her jaw muscles were taut from clenching her teeth in her sleep. Sleep was never restful. In her naïve youth, she thought she would eventually outgrow the nightmares but it still had not happened. She was beginning to give up hope. Dottie inhaled deeply and dropped to the floor. She did push-ups to erase the slow fading memories of the nightmares. It wasn’t until she had finished the set of 300 sit-ups that followed the 100 push-ups that she felt her mind clear and her jaw start to unclench.

She walked to the bathroom and turned on the light. She stared at her features in the mirror. Her whole face rang with tension. Little by little, her face transformed into that of Dorothy. The creases around her eyes vanished, her nostrils slimmed, her mouth loosened and settled in a slight smile, even her ears relaxed. Her features now amiable, she proceeded to dress in what she imagined a grown up Dorothy Gale would wear. She lowered her shoulders, changed her gait from coiled power to relaxed insecurity. Her purse sat open on the dresser. She reached under the pillow on the bed and removed a gun which she stuffed into her purse and closed it. Dottie did a once over in the mirror in the bathroom before switching off the light and grabbing a tiny shred of paper to wedge between the door and her key.

She carefully closed the door behind her and listened for the soft clack of the latch catching as she turned her key. She started down the hall, pausing in front of Peggy’s door to listen while putting her key in the front pocket of her purse. No sounds emanated from the room. She moved down the stairs to the first floor, smiling and sending gracious “good morning”s to the other women as she passed. When she got to the lobby, she nodded at Miss Fry who was at the front desk before moving to the dining room. The last remnants of the hotel were finishing their breakfast. Dottie took a piece of toast, a small scoop of eggs and a slice of bacon on a plate and sat across from Angie. Angie’s face was downcast as she pushed her eggs around on the plate.

“Good morning, Angie,” Dottie smiled before taking a small bite of her toast.

“Is it, Dot? Is it a good morning? Or is it merely another morning in a stream of monotonous days that only lead to more of the same?” Angie sighed and looked out toward the lobby.

“Wow. Angie, what’s wrong? Did something happen?” Dottie asked, painting concern across her face.

“I’m consumed with ennui, Dottie, and pondering the point of life,” she replied, still pushing eggs back and forth on her plate.

“Well, I don’t really know what that is but it sounds to me like you just need to get out and get some sunshine. How about you take me on a tour of your city?” Dottie continued smiling though annoyance was starting to show around her eyes.

“I couldn’t possibly, Dot. Not today. I can’t even go to work. If you knew the amount of effort it took just to come down here and eat breakfast, well you’d understand,” Angie replied, finally looking up at her, “Some other time?”

“Sure, of course, is there anything I can do for you, Angie? I hate seeing a pal so sad,” Dottie wrinkled her eyebrows and let her smile relax.

“It’s sweet of ya but I think I just need some time alone today.” Angie got up.

“I sure hope you feel better soon, Angie,” Dottie called after her.

“Thanks, Dot,” Angie called over her shoulder.

Miss Fry watched Angie drag her feet past her and up the stairs. “Honestly, she’s so dramatic,” she said to herself.

Dottie pushed away from the table after the last girl left and walked back toward Miss Fry. A couple of girls walked past them. “Oh Miss Fry, I was wondering if you had a map of New York City so I could do a little sightseeing today,” Dottie smiled.

“Of course, dear,” Miss Fry reached under the desk and handed the map to Dottie with a smile, “Now, you must be careful. It’s dangerous for a young woman to go out exploring on her own.”

Dottie smoothed her grey jacket down. “Oh you don’t need to worry about me, Miss Fry. I won’t go anywhere I shouldn’t be and I’ll definitely be home before dark.”  
Miss Fry patted Dottie on the hand as she withdrew the map. Dottie palmed a note before putting the map under her armpit. She smiled again at Miss Fry and walked out the front door. Dottie unfolded the note: Take her key and search her room. She may have the item. Further instructions to follow.

Dottie looked back at Miss Fry through the glass and smiled. Miss Fry smiled back and nodded at Dottie. Dottie put her purse over her shoulder and proceeded to the L&L where she waited until lunchtime for Peggy to appear.


	3. Disposed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Theft and disposals, Dottie's been a busy little bumble bee.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Picks up again after Dottie steals Peggy's key.  
> In case you didn't notice, I bumped the audience warning for this chapter. It's a little darker than the other chapters.

Dottie watched Peggy push through the revolving doors of the L&L, her smile falling away. She opened her hand and looked at the key there. There were easier ways to get into Peggy’s room. Miss Fry could have given her a key with no difficulty but then mission completion would have been difficult to communicate subtly. Dottie sighed and folded her map. If everything was going according to plan, Leviathan would be drawing the SSR, and hopefully Agent Peggy Carter, to Russia to obtain Dr. Ivchenko.

Dottie tossed coins onto the table, put the key in her purse and put it over her shoulder. She got up to leave, a waitress called to her, “Miss, you forgot your map,” she handed her the folded paper.

“Oh silly me. Thank you, gosh sometimes I think I’d forget my head if it wasn’t attached,” Dottie laughed.

She pushed through the door and walked down the sidewalk. Dottie threw the map into the first trashcan she found once she was out of sight of the automat. She made her way back toward the Griffith. Miss Fry was sitting in front of her typewriter, holding a blank sheet of paper. She threaded the paper onto the ream and looked up to smile at Dottie as she walked past the desk. “Oh, Miss Underwood, your floor mates have been complaining about a smell coming from your room. Perhaps it’s time you did your laundry. Remember, cleanliness is next to godliness,” she chirped.

“Oh thank you, Miss Fry. I planned to clean this evening but maybe I should go ahead a do that now. Gosh, I’d hate to be a problem,” Dottie replied.

Dottie’s face went solemn as she climbed the stairs. The smell did not bother her. It was actually a comfort. It helped her think, keep her mind clear. Everyone, if they’re honest, has a set of smells, sights, sounds or sensations that calm them. Slowly decaying flesh is that thing for Dottie. She opened her door and closed it behind her. She sat her purse on the dresser then turned the lock. Dottie closed her eyes and inhaled. The smell was faint, it was less than a week old. In her boarding school, sometimes girls would die in the night. That was before they started handcuffing them to their beds. Girls still died in their sleep but it happened less frequently. She shrugged her jacket off her shoulders and bent down to peer under the bed. The blond man’s frozen look of shock greeted her, head turned at an odd angle. Dottie pulled the body out from under the bed. She rubbed the side of his face, taking in the tacky, almost putty feel of skin no longer touched by life. She breathed in the smell of death. It did not take long for a body to take on a smell, he still had the faint smell of gunpowder around him from firing the beautiful automatic gun she had taken from him.

Dottie stood up, straightened her skirt and opened the top drawer of the dresser. Inside was a large navy blue rucksack. She pulled it out and shook it loose. She held the bag up toward the body on the floor and cocked her head sideways. She sighed. It would be a tight fit, but she figured she could make it work. Dottie walked back to the body, laid down the bag and began undressing him. She took his shoes and clothing and laid them to the side of the bed, folded neatly. Dottie picked the bag back up forgetting about rigor mortis until her attempt to lazily fold his leg failed. She sighed and dropped the bag. She took his leg in both hands and bent it with all her strength. Her efforts were met with cracks as she worked the leg, folded at the knee and hip. She moved to the other leg and did the same. Arms, legs, torso and head, compressed as tightly as possible, she again pulled the body into the bag. She groaned as she hefted the bag higher. The body hit the ground inside the bag with a thud. Dottie paused, listening with her whole body for any sounds, vibrations in the floor indicating movement, anything. When she was confident no one was moving around her, she slid the bag along the floor. Dottie could deadlift 175 pounds with little problem, but dead bodies always behaved differently than weights so she opted to drag the bag down the hall to the laundry lift.

Before opening her door, Dottie did a once over of the room. She took the folded clothes and shoes and put them into the bottom drawer of her dresser. Secure that nothing was out of place or suspicious, Dottie returned to her door and leaned her ear against it. The hallway was quiet, so she poked her head out. No one appeared to move. Luckily, it seems, the girls are all out or at work. She debated quickly, knocking on Angie’s door to see if she was still consumed in her ennui but decided against it. Dottie sighed and took the handle of the bag and walked as quickly down the hall as she could manage after closing her door all while controlling her breath and hiding strain from her features. The bag thumped down the little landing to the dumbwaiter. There was no way to get around that. She lifted the door and piled the bag in as quickly as possible.

She looked around her after closing the door back and hearing it begin its descent. She walked calmly down the stairs to the basement that held the laundry facilities. She pushed through the hanging clothes. Miriam turned from her place in front of the dumbwaiter. “He was a big one,” she replied, shoving the bag onto the ground.  
Dottie nodded. 

“Let’s get him into the drain,” Miriam continued.

Dottie grabbed one end of the bag, Miss Fry grabbed the other. Dottie opened the drain cover one handed. Miss Fry shifted the weight of the bag against her leg then hefted her end higher. The bag crashed into the water of the sewer drain. Dottie climbed through. It was much easier to drag the body along in water than on dry land and she moved quickly down the drain to a cross canal. She unloaded the body from the bag and began her trek back to the Griffith. Miriam was waiting for her and ushered her through quickly. The bag stank of sewage as did Dottie. “God, that’s awful,” Miriam said, pinching her nose closed.

Dottie simply nodded. She opened the lid of a washer and piled in the bag then began stripping down to her underclothes. She looked at the clothes on the line around her, feeling which were the driest and nearest her size. She pulled a robe off the line and slung it around her shoulders.

Miriam began ascending the stairs before Dottie stripped off the rest of the underclothes beneath the robe and threw them into the washer as well and started the cycle. Dottie pulled the robe tightly closed and made her way back to her room. She locked her door behind her, checked every hiding place to make sure no one had snuck in then dropped the robe and went to shower. When she emerged, smelling fresh as a rose, she wiped the steam from the mirror and said to her reflection, “I guess the search will have to wait ‘til tomorrow. Girls and their sensitivities,” she sighed.

Dottie put on a clean dress and wound her hair into a bun. She put the borrowed robe over her arm and returned it to the basement where she hung up her wet clothing to dry and replaced the robe on the line. The bag, she wrung out into a sink until it barely dripped. She carried the item up to her room and hung it over the bathtub. A knock on the door startled her, “Hey, Dot, wanna come down to dinner with me?” Angie buzzed.

“Sure thing, Angie, gimme just a minute,” Dottie replied, mirroring Angie’s tone. 

Dottie took her key from the table by the door and opened it with a smile. “Someone sounds like she’s feeling better.”

“Yeah, it was just a phase I guess,” Angie winked.

The two descended the stairs to the lobby and joined a slow trickle of girls filing into the dining room.


	4. Drinks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Picks up during episode 5 when Dottie is in Peggy's room.

A picture of a very scrawny Steve Rodgers, stared at Dottie from the corner of Peggy’s mirror. She took the photo and sat down. Her eyes darted to the mirror. She looked at herself and tried on Peggy’s accent. “Hello,” she smiled demurely, “I’m Peggy Carter.”

Dottie looked down at the vanity and spotted a tube of lipstick. She held the lipstick up to her nose and sniffed. _Valerian,_ Dottie thought to herself, _mine’s stronger._ The smell reminded her of her trip into the sewer the day before. She put the cap back on the lipstick and returned it to its place. Dottie placed the photo she had taken in her purse and then picked up the string and key from the nightstand. She looked over her shoulder after placing the string over the lock and let herself out.

Dottie screwed on her smile and headed down the stairs. She hummed to herself, “We’re Off to See the Wizard” and slipped further into the Dottie persona. The lobby was quiet save the ticking of the grandfather clock next to the front desk. Miss Fry was nowhere to be seen and girls were slowly trickling in for their lunch breaks. Dottie smiled at the neighbors as she passed them on her way out the front door. She straightened her shoulders and walked down the street toward the L&L. She looked in the windows as she passed. Angie was busy leaning over a table, refilling a coffee mug. Dottie rounded the corner to the newspaper stand and picked up a paper. She turned the paper to the back page and marched back into the L&L, feigning oblivion to all but her and the funny pages. Dottie giggled to herself as she folded the paper and looked around the automat for a place to sit.

“Heya, Dot,” Angie chirped.

“Oh hi, Angie, I didn’t know you were working the afternoon shift,” Dottie smiled.

“I got an audition at three so I had to pick up the mornin’ actually, been here since six and let me tell ya, my dogs are barkin’,” she grinned.

Dottie giggled and looked down. 

“Pick a spot to plop. Wanna cuppa coffee?” Angie asked.

“Please,” Dottie replied and walked over to Peggy’s normal booth and sat down on the side Peggy normally takes. She squared her shoulders, straightened her posture and momentarily pinched her lips into a thin line and surveyed the room. She looked to the counter where Angie was dropping dishes. Angie’s shoulders turned toward Dottie who quickly wiped Peggy from her face and smiled broadly. She noted Angie’s face register disappointment briefly that Dottie was not Peggy. To her defense, Angie recovered quickly and snapped her fingers as if she had forgotten that she was meant to bring coffee to Dottie. She took a mug and the coffee pot and hurried to the booth. Dottie opened the newspaper again and laid it back on the table after Angie left to refill other mugs. _Just because Angie is obviously head over heels for Peggy doesn’t mean Peggy feels the same,_ Dottie thought to herself as she took a drink of coffee. Her eyes narrowed over her paper and she pretended she was reading. Dottie sighed and put the mug down. _I need to spend some actual time with Peggy. This dance with Angie isn’t cutting it. Unless I intend on…_ Dottie’s lips twisted in a smile.

She looked over toward Angie who was hiding behind a pained grin. Angie was barely hanging on as a tall man in a fedora railed at her about the coffee not being strong enough. “Oh waitress,” Dottie waved her hand patiently at Angie.

Angie smiled at the man and apologized before nearly breaking out in a full run to Dottie. “God!” Angie proclaimed, “Thanks, Dot. I dunno what he expects me to do about the coffee. I don’t make it, I just pour it.”

“No problem,” Dottie smiled, “Hey, what do you say to getting a drink tonight after your audition?”

“Huh?” Angie asked, her eyebrows knitting.

“Well, I still don’t know much about the city and friends are sure harder to come by than you seem to think. My ballet group’s been working us super hard and I could really use a drink but I don’t have anybody to go with…” Dottie rambled, looking away sadly.

“Aww gee, Dot. I had no idea. Sure, we can go somewhere to get a drink. I don’t have no plans tonight,” Angie smiled sympathetically, patting Dottie’s hand.

“Thanks, Angie,” Dottie said, still playing demure, “I really appreciate it.”

“No problem. I should be done with the audition around 4. It’s just around the corner, so how ‘bout I stop by your room around 5?” Angie asked, hiding her slight discomfort well.

“I’ll be ready,” Dottie grinned warmly.

Angie wandered off to her other tables. Dottie finished her coffee and left a quarter on the table with her paper and returned to the Griffith. By the time she returned, the lunch crowd had dwindled away. Miss Fry was sitting at the front desk, holding a type written piece of paper. She folded the paper instinctually at the sound of clicking heels on the floor. When she looked up and saw Dottie, her smile faded at the corners. Dottie reached into her purse and pulled out the photo she had taken from Peggy’s room, along with Peggy’s key and slid them both across the desk to Miss Fry.

Behind them, the front door swung open. Miss Fry took the photo and key quickly and hid them under the counter. “Any messages for me, Miss Fry? I keep hoping to hear from my folks,” Dottie asked, loudly.

The girls passed by them and headed up the stairs, paying no attention to them. Miss Fry nodded, “Why yes, actually, Miss Underwood, something was actually dropped off this morning.”

Miss Fry handed an envelope to Dottie who smiled appreciatively and took it with her upstairs. She pulled her key from her purse and opened her door. A thin piece of paper fluttered to the floor. She picked up the paper after shutting and locking the door and placed both key and paper on the table by the entry. Dottie pulled her shoes off and unbuttoned her red vest. She sat down in the chair next to her bed and ran her finger under the envelope’s seal. She unfolded the paper and read: 

Ivchenko en route to SSR. Timeline advanced. Find way to contact. Further directions then.

Dottie folded the paper back and walked to her kitchenette. She pulled a box of matches from the shelf. She took the matchbox and letter to the bathroom. Over the sink, she lit a match and set the paper alight. She watched as the paper burned to ash in the sink then turned on the water to send the last bits down the drain. Dottie eyed her features in the mirror. She opened the medicine cabinet and pulled out her make-up bag. She sat it on the corner of the sink and went to her closet to find a dress. She sighed, “What is it about Peggy that Angie finds so charming?”

She pulled out a pair of cream coloured wide leg trousers. She laid the pants on the bed and returned to the closet where she thumbed through a handful of blouses before settling on a deep blue one with a heavily starched collar and a cinched waist. She laid this with the pants and smiled. “Katharine Hepburn should do the trick,” Dottie murmured before heading into the bathroom.

Her make-up was subtle so she pulled out her eyeliner pencil and traced the line of her lids in black, ending in an upward sweep just past the outside corner of her lid. She blinked at her reflection before adding mascara to her lashes. She took a piece of toilet tissue and blinked onto the paper to remove the excess mascara. When she finished, she dug through her lipsticks for her deepest red. She smeared the colour across her lips and pressed them together. The clock on the wall next to the vanity read 4:30 pm. 

Dottie began stripping out of the skirt and slip she wore. The hangers on the back of the bathroom door waited for her to return the clothes to them. When she placed the blouse and vest onto the hanger, she returned them to the closet and closed the door. Dottie pulled the pants on then the shirt. She tucked the blouse into the high waisted pants and slipped on a pair of brown flats. She walked to the full length mirror standing in the corner next to the dresser to study her look. One side of her mouth curved upward slightly. She pulled a sweater that matched her pants off the back of the armchair and put it around her shoulders, buttoning the top button as she did. She reached into her purse and checked its contents. Her coin purse, a comb and make-up compact stared at her. She opened a hidden pocket to find her pocketknife. Behind her came a knocking at the door, “Heya Dot, it’s Angie.”

Dottie ran a finger over the line of her lips and called over her shoulder, “Coming.”

Dottie grabbed her key from the table and regrettably left the paper slip on the table. She opened the door to Angie’s smiling face. Angie’s pupils momentarily dilated. “Gee Dot, you look nice.”

“Oh thanks, Angie,” Dottie smiled meekly. _At least I’m right about Angie,_ she thought.

“So,” Angie recovered, “Anywhere you wanna go or should I pick?”

“Well, I saw this little place a couple blocks down, you think we could go there?” Dottie asked innocently.

“Sure, why not. If it gets sketchy, we can just head somewhere else.”

Dottie smiled and they left the Griffith side by side. They arrived at a dark, smoky bar several blocks away. The place was piled with suits. Angie spotted a booth near the back and pointed, “Better grab it before somebody else does.”

“You go, I’ll get us drinks, you want anything special?” Dottie asked.

“Whatever you’re having is fine,” Angie called over her shoulder.

Dottie approached the bar. “What’ll it be, sweet cheeks?” the bartender asked.

Dottie’s eyes narrowed, “Two gin and tonics,”

“You got it.”

Dottie pulled out her coin purse and placed a dollar on the counter. The bartender smiled as he placed the drinks on the bar in front of her. She returned her coin purse to its place and took the drinks. She turned from the bar to find Angie grimacing at a man towering over her. Dottie watched Angie’s face slowly cracking beneath the weight of feigned interest. When she arrived at the booth, she leaned over the table to hand Angie her drink and sat hers down on the other side. She smiled at the man who shifted his attention to Dottie. He leaned over Dottie’s shoulder, “Oh ho! There’s two of you? Well it’s my lucky day.”  
“Oh did my friend here not tell you that we’re waiting for our fellas? They’re at the bar and it’d be a real shame for them to get the wrong idea and think you’re bothering us,” Dottie smiled sweetly.

“Ah, well, lucky fellas. Beg your pardon, ladies,” he tipped his hat and disappeared back toward the bar.

“Thanks, Dot. Why do some guys only leave ya alone if they think ya got a fella?” Angie asked rhetorically.

“I hope a gin and tonic is okay with you,” Dottie said.

“Yeah,” Angie took a sip, “I’ll get the next round.”

“Oh don’t sweat it. Consider this payback for the hot dog,” Dottie blushed and looked down at her drink.

They were halfway into their third drinks when the door opened and a group of men and one woman walked in. They were all still patting each other on the back in congratulations of a job well done. Angie raised her head at the uproar. “Peg?” Angie breathed.

Dottie smiled and turned toward the noise. “Hey, isn’t that Peggy?” Dottie asked, pretending not to have heard Angie’s utterance.

Angie quickly looked away and down at her drink. Dottie turned back to Angie, “Hey should we invite her over?”

“No,” Angie said flatly, “I mean, she seems busy.”

The group of men strolled up to the bar. The bartender nodded at them, “The regular?” he asked.

The tall blonde one nodded, then leaned in toward Peggy and whispered something. Peggy nodded and the man called over the din, “Make six of ‘em.”

The bartender nodded and began pouring drinks. Dottie looked back at Angie, her face was a bright red. She swallowed the rest of her drink in one gulp and grimaced as it burned down her throat. “You okay?” Dottie asked, placing her hand over Angie’s.

Angie looked up at Dottie and smiled, “Yeah, of course,” she replied.

Dottie let her hand linger. Angie quietly pulled her hand from under Dottie’s and offered her a small smile. “It’s my round. You want another?” Dottie asked.  
“Sure,” Angie said distantly, desperately not looking in Peggy’s direction.

Dottie went up to the opposite side of the bar so she could see both Angie and Peggy’s faces. The tall blonde man, who she knew was named Thompson, handed the drinks out to everyone in his group. One man pointed to a table in the opposite corner of Angie and Dottie’s booth. Peggy took her drink in hand and followed them. Dottie leaned away from the bar to watch them pass near Angie. Thompson eyed Angie up and down as he passed. Peggy saw Angie and nearly stumbled. She looked around her and her companions to see if anyone noticed. Dottie smiled and leaned back into the bar and ordered their drinks. As she walked up, she could see Peggy still staring at Angie. She laughed half-heartedly at, what Dottie presumed, was a joke told by her co-workers, Peggy’s eyes never left Angie. Dottie strolled up, with a flourish in her hips, to the table. She leaned dramatically toward Angie as she sat the drink down. She let her hand linger on the glass as Angie took it without looking and their hands brushed. From the corner of her eye, she saw Peggy lean forward in her seat. Dottie sat down across from Angie and smiled at her with the brightness of the sun. She saw Peggy huff and look away. Dottie stayed grinning. “Are you sure we shouldn’t say hello to her, Angie? What if she sees us, don’t you think it’d be rude?” Dottie asked earnestly.

Angie shook her head, “She’s got enough company for one night,” she huffed. Dottie kept Peggy in her periphery and watched her down her drink quickly and excuse herself from the table. The men did not notice and she slipped away. Dottie maintained eye contact with Angie who now looked as sullen as a child whose favourite toy got taken away. Peggy circled wide and went for the bar. She ordered a drink. Angie noticed Peggy had returned to the bar and screwed a smile on her face which she directed at Dottie. When Peggy was returning to her table, she attempted to be casual in noticing them. “Angie?” she laughed as she walked by, “Why what on earth are you doing here?” Peggy finally looked toward Dottie, suspiciously. 

“Hi Peggy. Gosh, I didn’t know you came here,” Dottie volunteered.

“I don’t usually. I’m here with my colleagues. It’s been a difficult couple of days at the office,” she smiled.

Angie looked at Peggy while she was still looking at Dottie. When Peggy turned her face back to Angie, her smile turned to genuine, her breathing changed slightly. Dottie could not tell if her pupils responded as well but she felt confident enough in her assessment to ease back against her seat and relax. “Did you not have an audition today, Angie?” Peggy asked.

“I did,” Angie looked down into her drink.

“Oh no, did it not go well?” Peggy inquired.

“No,” Angie replied, “I got another in the mornin’ so we probably oughtta get goin’. Besides, you don’t wanna keep your ‘colleagues’ waitin’.”

The level of jealousy in Angie’s voice nearly made Dottie giggle. She pretended not to notice the conversation Angie and Peggy were having since they were content to pretend she was not there. Dottie simply put her sweater back on and picked up her purse. The two of them stared into each other’s eyes for what seemed to Dottie like an uncomfortable eternity. She finally cleared her throat. Angie broke the gaze first and grabbed her sweater. Peggy’s hand floated near Angie’s shoulder as she turned away. “Next time we should all go out together. How’s that sound, Peggy?” Dottie chirped.

“Uh, yes. That would be lovely, Dottie,” Peggy said, composing herself, “I’ll see you later?” she asked of them both but her gaze returned to Angie.

Angie nodded and gripped her purse tightly. “Have fun with your friends,” Dottie waved as Angie walked by both of them toward the exit.

Peggy watched them leave before returning to her table. “Hey, Angie, wait up,” Dottie called.

Angie slowed down, allowing Dottie to catch up. “Is everything okay?” she asked.

“Yeah, I think I just drank too much. I don’t feel too great,” Angie replied.

“Aww, I’m sorry Angie,” Dottie replied.

She put her arm around Angie’s shoulder, “Let’s get you home then.”

Angie nodded and the two walked back to the Griffith quietly.


	5. Venomous Kisses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takes place partly during episode 6 but also flashes back to events leading up to Dottie moving into the Griffith and her brief time as Ida Emke.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks everyone for reading this. I hope you've enjoyed it.  
> I've really liked writing Dottie. Bridget Regan and the series writers have been amazing at making my mind play around with this character.  
> Depending on what happens in the SEASON (I refuse to think series) finale tonight, I may add another chapter or write a more thorough backstory of this fantastic character.

Dottie took apart the rifle and placed it back in its case. She folded the paper she wrote her next directive on and placed it on top of the gun. _Kill Peggy Carter,_ she thought to herself, _obviously, but why now?_ Dottie shook her head. Never question orders. Her long years of training taught her better than to ever question her superiors so she inhaled deeply, the scent of human waste from the body behind her. She grimaced, forgetting it was there. Recent death only nauseated her, reminded her of her first kills. It would be better next time, when the rotting meat smell set in.

She hoisted the gun case off the cabinet. She, fortunately, had the entire weekend before the body would be discovered. She had no hard time imagining that the people in his employ would come in as late as possible if the “charming” personality Dr. Seth Honicky displayed to her was his standard. She pushed the case behind the cabinet just to be safe and searched the man’s body for the key to the office, she did not want some security guard to stumble in and find the body in case she needed to contact Dr. Ivchenko again.

Dottie nonchalantly strolled out of the office and back onto the subway. It was not that the SSR office building was a terribly long walk from the Griffith so much as habit, beat into her as a child, to never take direct routes anywhere. She shook the cascade of flashbacks that threatened to take hold of her from her head. She held the briefcase in one hand and straightened her black sweater with the other. It was, perhaps, her only nervous tick, one she had attempted to shed for many years without success.

_Three Months Ago_

She tugged on her black sweater, smoothing it over. Her eyes scanned the upscale club. A band sat on the stage, playing an upbeat tune. “May I take your coat, ma’am?” a man asked behind her.

“Of course,” she shrugged the jacket off her shoulders into the man’s hands. “Name?” he asked .

“Emke,” she replied.

“Miss Emke, here’s your ticket,” he handed her a slip of paper with a smile.

She smiled back and stuffed the paper into her handbag. The room buzzed with a kind of electricity leaping and bouncing off of couples scattered around the room. She scanned until she found him. Howard Stark, she had watched him for weeks. Nearly every day saw a new woman on his arm and in and out of his house. Ida squared her shoulders and put a scandalous swing in her hips as she walked toward Howard. The dress she wore clung to her body in all the right places. She had studied the women he had chosen to take home with him. Physically they had very little in common; he truly had no physical type. He did, however, enjoy a pursuit. All she needed to do was gain his attention and wait. She watched his eyes trail up her legs, barely silhouetted underneath cream satin; to her waist, cinched tight with pleats and a sequined rose; up to her chest, the deep v neck showing a fair amount of cleavage, and lingering there for several moments before finally travelling to her face. She caught his glance and quirked up one side of her mouth and an eyebrow then looked away to the bar.

Ida smiled as two men moved off their stools, competing to make room for her. She smiled graciously and placed her hand on the more attractive of the two’s shoulder as she climbed onto the stool. She crossed her legs at the knee, allowing a sliver of leg to flash before returning the satin to cover it. The man whose chair she took offered to buy her a drink which she assented to and drank daintily from the glass of gin and tonic. From her periphery, she saw Howard rise from the table he had been occupying and make his way toward her. She turned away from the man who was droning about baseball toward Howard. He smiled at her, making his mustache crinkle. She returned the smile.

“May I get the next round?” Howard asked.

Ida dipped her head and grinned, “If you wish.”

 _Got you,_ she thought.  
Howard proceeded to regale her with stories of his millions, inventions, boats, cars, houses and on and on. Ida smiled and touched Howard’s arm and gasped appropriately until he finally made his move.

“Miss Emke, would it interest you to join me at my estate for another drink and a little mutual enjoyment?” he inquired.

“Why, Mr. Stark, are you propositioning me?” she batted her eyelashes.

“Yes, my dear, I am,” he flashed a devilish grin.

“Just so long as we’re clear on the terms,” she smiled and laced her arm through his, “I just need to get my sweater.”

He smiled broadly and laughed as they exited. Howard looked down the street to a car with a tall man sitting in the driver’s seat. The man saw Howard and started the car then turned on the lights. Howard and Ida made their way to the vehicle. The tall man exited the car and opened the door for the two of them. “Thank you, Jarvis,” Howard clapped the man on the shoulder. 

Ida slid through to the passenger side of the back seat. Howard slid in next to her. Jarvis got in and pulled away from the curb. Howard’s hand traced circles on Ida’s knee. She smiled lazily at him. He took this as prompting and nuzzled her neck. She cleared her throat and looked nervously at the driver. Howard looked up, “Don’t worry about Jarvis,” Howard whispered.

Ida smiled and leaned away from him slightly. Howard leaned back away from her. “I don’t like making young ladies uncomfortable, I can wait,” he said smoothly.

“Thank you,” Ida smiled at him.

The rest of the trip was spent in silence. Fortunately for everyone, it was not a long trip. Jarvis pulled up to the estate and turned off the engine. Howard had already jumped out of the car and made his way to the passenger door. He opened the door for Ida and held out a hand for her to take. “Why thank you, kind sir,” she grinned.

“That’ll be all, Jarvis. I’ll see you in the morning,” Howard said over his shoulder.

“Very well, sir,” Jarvis replied and returned to the car and drove away.

Howard escorted Ida into his home and gave her the tour. She oohed and aahed with each room he showed off. Finally, the tour ended at his bedroom. She smiled sheepishly as he unstoppered the top on a decanter of brandy. “Care for a drink?” he asked.

Ida nodded. “May I freshen up first?”

Howard nodded, “Bathroom’s first door on the right.”

Howard was taking a sip of his drink and sat hers on the table next to a set of chairs by the bed. Ida walked into the bathroom and closed the door behind her. She opened her purse and pulled out two tubes of lipstick. The first, was a vibrant red, the second was a clear top coat. She rubbed her lips together. The friction activated the chemicals in the tubes. She closed her purse and returned to the bedroom. Howard lounged in the chair, holding his glass. Ida sat her purse down on the trunk in front of the bed and walked toward Howard. He smiled, taking in the sight of her swinging hips. Once in front of him, she took his glass from his hand and sat it on the table. She lifted her skirt so she could easily straddle herself over his legs. “My my, Miss Emke, you are quite forward,” he smiled, wolfishly.

“No sense beating around the bush, Howard,” she grinned and pressed her mouth against his.

Howard nodded off faster than she expected. She had obviously underestimated the amount of alcohol in his system. She pulled up the back of her skirt between her legs and tied it around her waistband for better ease of movement. She lifted Howard’s dead weight onto the bed and quickly stripped him of his clothes, down to his boxers. She rumpled the sheets then took off her shoes so she could move about without making noise. She grabbed her purse and exited the room. His study, she recalled, was on the first floor across from the stairs. She hurried along, her stockinged feet making little noise on the hardwood. Her eyes took a moment to adjust to the study which was darker than the hallway. When they finally did, she rummaged through Howard’s drawers looking for blueprints. She finally found a stack of them and laid them on the desk. She rifled through them until she found the one she was looking for. She took a pen and paper from her purse and wrote down the address then returned the items to the drawers and let herself out of the room.

She raced back upstairs to where Howard was still unconscious and stripped off her dress, threw it across the room and lay down on the bed next to him, in only her undergarments. After several hours of waiting, feigning sleep, Howard began to stir. His hand immediately went to his head and he groaned. Ida turned over at the noise and ran her finger down his bare chest, “I wouldn’t have pegged you for the type to pass out right after sex, Mr. Stark,” she purred.

“Gosh, Ida, I must’ve had more to drink than I thought. I’m sorry, I usually don’t pass right out,” he replied a bit shyly, “I hate to admit it but I really don’t remember much about the actual…act. I hope it was enjoyable for you.”

Ida smiled, she had not planned on that response from him. “It was, Howard. Thank you.”

He nodded and got up to get his robe and walked to the kitchen. Meanwhile, Ida put on her dress and shoes and followed him downstairs. The sun was slowly rising and the man Howard called Jarvis was just opening the front door as Ida stepped down the stairs. “Good morning, miss,” Jarvis said.

“Good morning,” she cooed.

Howard padded out of the kitchen with a glass of water in his hand, taking huge gulps as he walked. He nodded at Jarvis. To Ida, he said, “You want some breakfast, hun?”

Ida shook her head, “No thank you, I have rehearsals in a few hours, and I would appreciate a ride home though.”

_Three Weeks Ago_

Dottie slipped the man a five dollar bill, “Now, you really must convince her to let you in,” she said to the man.

"Sure thing, doll," he nodded, happy for the money and scaled up the side of the Griffith. Miss Fry stood in the front window waiting for the sign from Dottie that the man had accepted. Dottie peeled free of the shadows and nodded to Miss Fry who then disappeared.

That morning, Dottie packed two bags of clothes and a third that looked like a briefcase and left her apartment. She made her way to the Griffith. Miss Fry was escorting a sobbing woman from the premises. “I’m sorry, my dear, but I’m afraid you know the rules and chose to break them anyway,” she said.

“But where am I supposed to go?” she cried.

“Well, I’m quite certain I have no idea. Perhaps you should of thought of that before you let your beau convince you to allow him in your room,” Miss Fry replied coldly.  
Dottie walked up to the front desk and sat her belongings on the ground. She inclined her head toward the front door and listened to Miss Fry issue a final “Good day,” then harrumphing back to the front desk.

“Yes, my dear, can I help you?” she asked Dottie, looking around at the women who had stopped to watch the display of theatrics.

“Gosh, I’m sorry to interrupt. I was just hoping you had a room to rent. I just got here from Iowa and well, I need a place to stay,” Dottie smiled.

“Well, you’re in luck, a room just opened on the third floor. There is of course an interview process and I’ll need to clean the room,” Miss Fry said loudly then leaned in, “Down the stairs to the right leads to the basement, put your things there.”

Dottie nodded. “Please have a seat, Miss?” Miss Fry continued.

“Underwood,” Dottie said, “Thank you.”

Miss Fry disappeared into her office. Dottie waited until the ladies watching the eviction dispersed then made her way to the basement with her bags. Miss Fry was waiting for her when she arrived. “Here, store the briefcase here,” Miss Fry pointed to a washer with an out of order sign over it. She placed the case into the machine then piled several boxes on top of it.

“Your room is right next door to hers,” Miss Fry began, “For now you are only to observe and attempt to be friendly. It would be a good idea to cozy up to Miss Martinelli as well. She and Agent Carter seem to be increasingly close. Come back this evening around 6pm. That’s around what time Carter tends to be here and we’ll get you introduced.”

Dottie nodded and walked back up the stairs and out the front door of the lobby.

_Present Day_

Dottie rushed into the Griffith, the room already buzzing about federal agents busting in. She rushed around to the main floor bathroom and quickly pulled out her lipstick, brushing both layers onto her lips then hastily rubbing them together. _Shit,_ she thought, _How did those apes put it together so quickly._

She sighed and ran her hands over her sweater, pulling it down, then calmly walking toward the staircase. She heard Miss Fry yelling at the men as she climbed the stairs. An agent with dark hair barked orders two men to find Peggy. Dottie cursed under her breath again and climbed the stairs faster. She rounded the corner before the third floor and saw her. She rushed up to Peggy with concern painted across her face. She tisked in her head, _Sorry Peg, I’d have done it different if I could._


End file.
